Not to be Left Alone
by Kata5trophe
Summary: It's happening again...Hopefully this time will turn out like the last, but there's always that chance...slight GSR but like in the show, it takes a back seat for now
1. The Good and the Bad News

A/N: This is my first CSI fic ever. Yes, I am the captain of the GSR ship, get over it. :) I didn't have the blessing of beta readers, so if you want to beta for me just review or send an email my way. Like in the YE OLDE days, this will be a very long story. Hopefully enjoy!

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"Alright listen up, guys, assignments. Greg, I want you to come with me on another drive-by. You'll be solo for a while on a missing persons, Sara."

"A while? Meaning if it turns into something more than that?"

"Maybe. I was thinking more of until one of Catherine's crew is free."

"Oh. So what's my case?"

"A mother gave the police department a call about her daughter at the university. She hadn't heard from her daughter in a few days, so, naturally, she's a bit worried."

"And where was this mother calling from?"

"Vermont."

"Great. Some girl finally has some freedom in the big city and I have to go check up on her. Ten bucks says this is nothing more than a college drinking binge, hangover, rinse and repeat," Sara rolled her eyes and reached for the manila folder Grissom was extending to her.

"Normally I'd agree with you but campus security has already checked for her; nothing there, slight sign of a struggle. Obviously it's something worth investigating or else I'd send Greg." Sara only smirked and tried to stifle a laugh. Greg lifted his head from the paper he was absent-mindedly concentrating on, "...wait. What?" Grissom and Sara eyed each other for a brief moment and curled their lips in a smirk together.

"Missing persons. Gotcha." Sara stood up and finished off her coffee, "Well the good news is that my case will probably be done before yours." Another grin crossed her face as she left the break room to get her kit.

Grissom turned his head slightly to follow her out. "Something wrong?" Greg piped up after noting his expression. "No," the older of the two said simply before adding in a haste notice. Grissom was lying, though, of course; something didn't seem right in his gut. Something about Sara wasn't right and he didn't know what it was. Usually when he had a feeling about his second youngest CSI it was something totally different; a something that could be pushed back into his head with the other hundreds just like it, difficultly albeit. Gil decided that whatever feeling it was it was not more important than the case.

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"Hey Steve," Sara smiled widely; she always hated to smile when she was young. It was like everyone from elementary to college made fun of her smile, whether it be in front of her face or behind her back. Now that she thought about it, Grissom was the only person that complimented it. Wait a second…why was she thinking about her smile now? Why was she thinking about _Grissom_ now? How she hated that she could never hate that man, even if he plagued her thoughts in the most inappropriate times. Sara let the grin fade as she approached the officer and the barely on campus residence.

"Always a pleasure, Sidle, even if it's not on the best circumstance."

"What do we have?"

"'Friends' say she hasn't been seen in two days. One roommate, apparently she's on vacation and has been for the past week."

"Vacation in the middle of the semester? That's a little strange, isn't it?" Sara tilted her head as she slipped on those common white gloves.

"Maybe for an Ivy League girl," Officer Melmer chuckled softly as Sara gave him a little jeer, "but not a Vegas girl."

"So what do you think we'll find?"

"Girl staying over at her boyfriend's for a lot of fun, maybe trying to escape an overprotective mother thousands of miles away."

"Yeah, me too, damn protocol."


	2. Corpses and Hammers

A/N: Thanks to everyone that's enjoying the story thus far, hope I don't disappoint. Thankfully, this chapter is a bit longer, but they're being painfully short. Don't worry, they'll get longer as I go. I have tons of ideas. Still looking for betas! Excuse mistakes!

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Sara Sidle entered her crime scene just like she had done hundreds of times; she scanned the room, top to bottom, making small mental notes. Grissom sometimes chastised her about spending too much time surveying and not enough time processing. Now she had all the time in the world to just look things over. It was a moderately run down house, something she expected college kids to live in – sort of rickety, but not falling apart at the seams. The door looked like it had been bashed in several times, yet the splinters still sticking out weren't freshly made. There was something amiss at this crime scene, something that she couldn't quite put her little finger on, but it was there. Her head lifted up to take a note of the top surroundings – worn down stairs, sort of looked like one would collapse if it was stepped on too hard, broken rail at the top of the case, pictures on the path that were crooked.

Finally after five minutes she and the officer made their way into the living room. _How odd_, Sara thought while squinting her eyes and pursing her lips, _nothing is wrong in here. Couch, chairs, lamps, tables…all in perfect order._ She turned around again to look at the staircase, then back to the current setting. "If something did happen here, it may've started upstairs. Have you gone up there yet?" she spoke to Officer Melmer without even offering him a glance.

"Nope. I waited until you got here to go in too deeply. I know how you CSIs can be, you'll bite our poor heads off if we contaminate your scene," Steve smirked as she turned to shoot another playful glare in his direction.

"Well thanks for being so thoughtful."

"Anytime."

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"If I get shot at this time I might just go back to my comfortable lab. The only bullets in there are ones from men," Greg cautiously stepped out of Grissom's passenger seat and shrugged on his vest.

"And that's the ones you're more comfortable with, Greg?" Gil Grissom had the absolute ability to make something so horribly childish sound like the most mature thing that has ever graced a pair of lips, this is something Greg did not pick up on.

"Well…yeah. Why would I want real bullets fl-" finally he put the connection together in his head. "You know what? Let's not talk about this."

Grissom smiled coyly as he pulled off his sunglasses and began to the scene, "Good choice." He continued until he reached a fairly angry Jim Brass on the phone. A dark eyebrow rose as he stood behind his old friend and listened in on his part of the conversation. It was not in his nature to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to when Brass had his 'official captain' voice on. "Something wrong?" he said coolly after Jim had hung up rather suddenly on the other party.

"You tell me: what we have here is a body that the coroner has pronounced being dead approximately one month, but it's perfectly preserved."

"…Yeah, something wrong. And this body was involved in a drive-by?" Grissom's brow furrowed as he glanced over to the white sheet lying on the ground. "Why did the coroner pronounce before we got here?"

"Well he didn't actually make it official. He took one look at the body and knew something wasn't right about it. Guess he just did a small autopsy without hurting the evidence?"

"We'll see." Gil turned away from Brass to take a look at the scene. This wasn't right, he knew it, there was a reason that body was there and there was a reason why he was there.

Amongst the crowd of uniformed officers David wasn't hard to pick out. Grissom could tell that the younger coroner was dreading their conversation before it even started; he could see it in his eyes as they got closer into view. Honestly, he knew that he could intimidate David, he just didn't know why. Well, that might've been a little far fetched on his part, Grissom knew he could be shake people. "David, can you tell me why there is a month old dead body at my crime scene?"

"Wish I could," David looked up at him from his paperwork, his eyes half cut off by the wide rims on his glasses. "I can tell you that this DB didn't die from bullet wounds."

"What of then?" this was beginning to get frustrating to the senior CSI. Here he had a routine scene to go through and now this complete mystery. Grissom never had a problem with solving a mystery, he found them a lot like crossword puzzles and he rather enjoyed crossword puzzles, but this was something far more dangerous to him.

"Lacerations to the neck. Well, that's what did her in, but she also had several strange contusions and lacerations on her wrists, ankles, abdomen, and oddly enough spinal column."

"How did you look at her back without contaminating evidence?"

"She was on her side…"

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"Stop! L.V.P.D!" Officer Melmer shouted as loud as he could as he ran in a heated pursuit of a…well, now a suspect. He and Sara had heard the door they left ajar slam shut several minutes after they stepped foot inside the house. Steve drew his gun without thinking and extremely quickly exited the door right behind the man dressed in all black.

Sara, on the other hand, was left standing in the door way hoping that Steve had not put his fingerprint over ones that could've been left by the other man. She kneeled by the door while opening her kit. Gently, she removed the cap from her print powder and tapped a small amount on the brush. Dark brown eyes shifted from the brush to the door as she delicately swiped at the wood, trying to get it to tell her its secrets of sorts.

That is when she heard it. That unmistakable sound of a hammer being pulled back. Sara froze like the corpses she meets all too often. The small brush full of dust in her hand dropped to the floor; her eyes moved down to watch it go, it seemed like it took the damn thing an eternity to fall. As it hit most of the powder went with it, making a shallow pool of white on and around her foot.

"If you move a muscle in your body I will blow your fucking brains out."


	3. Shaken Up

A/N: Thanks to everyone that has read so far and liked it. Quick word of caution, there is some strong_er_ language at the end of the chapter, if you're a sheltered child, look away. Microsoft Word is my beta. THANKS SO MUCH MICROSOFT.

Also, I realized I haven't put disclaimers up. I do not own CSI, nor any of its characters, if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.

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Gil Grissom had never been the one to show much emotion, he saved that for when it was absolutely necessary. Being a man of science emotion was one of those trivial things that could be avoided if willed enough. His science had never let him down, nor had his work, but now his wall of protection seemed to come tumbling down like a crushing wave on top of him. Locking away feeling always works, or so it seemed to Gil, but one must always be careful not to overfill the mind. Luckily, since he was a man of science it did not take him long at all to figure out what was going on; unluckily for him, it was his tendency to bottle away emotion that made his blood boil. In one sixty second phone call his life had been basically turned upside-down, inside-out. Grissom never thought that a piece of news or evidence could shake him up so much, but he was deathly wrong.

Dark brows furrowed as he walked like a man on a mission down the corridors of the crime lab. Gil spoke to no one and made it absolutely clear on his face that he did not want to be spoken to. As Nick passed in the hallway he wisely rethought his first question that popped into his head when he saw Grissom. He had been out with Greg right? Nick smirked thinking that the newest CSI had something to do with his bosses' mood.

"Greg what'd you do to him?" Stokes chuckled as he patted the shorter one on the shoulder. Silence shocked him since Greg Sanders was everything but silent; his smirk left his face as he looked at Greg's, knowing something was definitely not right. "What's wrong? Something happen?"

Swing-shift supervisor Catherine Willows was enjoying her office, mulling over old paperwork, and taking in the peace and quiet as her old supervisor swung open the door with a startling force. Catherine put down her papers to look Grissom directly in the face, a mix of anger and shock on her face. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to be furious, but all she could do was sit there with her mouth hung open like a trap. The staring match when on between the two supervisors not much longer before Catherine had enough. "What the hell, Gil! Where do you get off barging in here like that?"

"You need to give all your cases to day shift."

"You mind telling me why you're giving me the instructions?"

"…It's happening again, Catherine."

Catherine put her paper down slowly; she didn't know exactly what Gil was talking about, but she knew that it was a serious issue. _It's happening again? What? _After knowing Grissom for as long as she did, she knew that he couldn't say what 'it' was or else he already would've. Either 'it' was against him to say or was too painful for him to say, the latter of which seemed highly unlikely. A thin, extremely light red brow arched as she slowly shook her head at him, _I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Grissom…_Catherine knew that whatever it was it could not wait, but she also knew she had to figure it out, he couldn't tell her. Finally, her vision focused on Nick, Greg, and Warrick all running up a few feet behind Grissom, the epitome of horror on all of their faces. There was something different about Nick's, though, his told something else, something that no words could ever or would ever express. _Warrick. Greg…Nick. Sophia has the week vacation…Sara._

"Gil…Where is Sara?" That was it. Nick's face, Gil's face, it all came together. Like a true CSI Catherine put all the partial prints together to make a whole. Something was wrong with Sara. Grissom only looked down with a face full of nothing but guilt.

"It was all a set up, Catherine."

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_Ugh. Son of a bitch…What happened? _Sara reached behind her head to the crown of her skull; upon the slight touch of her finger to her head she winced in pain. After several seconds of patting at the sore she finally could trace enough around it to realize that there was a nice sized lump developing. Her sight was not clear – fuzzy at best – she couldn't see two feet ahead of her without feeling ill. She had seen too many autopsies to not know what that was, someone had hit her unconscious with the hilt of a gun; obviously not enough for a fatal facture, but enough where it hurt like hell. All she could remember was this voice and that wasn't too clear.

Brown eyes lifted and took a deep look at their surroundings once the brain they were connected to focused. Nothing. Bare walls, concrete floor, one door, no windows…just…nothingness. Sara pushed herself up with much difficulty; her body told itself that it weighed ten times its size. Her back leaned heavily against the cold wall behind her before willing herself forward to the door. As she approached her foot caught something sitting just in front of the bottom crack of the door. She reached down as best as she could to pick it up, the 'it' being a standard parcel envelope. Carefully she removed the contents: one piece of paper and a photograph. Sara's eyes came to a horrific sight of a young woman, bloody and broken, in the photo. As best as she could get, she was still alive when the picture was taken, but judging from the injuries sustained it wouldn't be that case for much longer. Her attention was turned to the paper quite quickly…it was a letter, to her.

_Hello, Ms. Sidle, I hope you are enjoying your stay with us so far. You'll find that you'll be staying with us much longer. We're very sorry that we missed you when you awoke; it's just that there are pressing matters to attend to. We have to let your friends know you're alright, I'm sure they're worried sick about you. We also have to give them their instructions for your safe and secure return. _

Already this 'letter' was making her sick. It oozed of cynicism to the core, even a complete moron could figure that part out.

_You'll find that leaving this room is quite impossible. You will do what we want, when we want it, and how we want it if you want to live. These next few days will be hard on you, Sara, but you're a tough woman, you'll make it through. Or is that tough façade you put on merely an act? Are you scared right now, Sara? You should be. This is only the beginning. We know you. We know everything about you, and the rest of your team. We very much hoped that it would be you to come – you seemed like the one to have the most fun with. _ _Don't let us down, Sara. Cry, scream, yell, be angry, be vengeful. Know that we are watching every move you make. Let that knowledge fill you with fear. Get comfortable, Ms. Sidle, you're in for a long trip. _

Sara could fill her eyes welling up with tears with each line she read. Her hand went up to wipe them away, knowing that it was exactly what _they_ wanted her to do. Trembling everywhere, she crumpled up the paper tightly and threw it at the door with a high pitched shout.

"You want me to be scared! Too fucking bad, assholes! I'm not scared of people too weak to show their faces to me! I'm not going to play your sick game! Go to hell!" Sara knew it was already too late, she was already playing right into their hands. Quickly, she made a grab for the door handle and pulled roughly. Her knuckles turned white as she kept trying to get her way out; her palms turned hard and slick at the same time, her heart was jumping out of her chest, everything was racing within her.

Finally she gave up at the door and stalked to a corner of the ridiculously-too-bright room. Sara slunk down in the corner with her knees drawn to her chest. She wouldn't let them see her face; she wouldn't let them see her cry. She knew that it would give them too much satisfaction, as per the letter. In her deepest hopes she wanted to hide all of the emotion she was feeling right at the second, in the hour, and in the day. She wanted to be like she knew she could be and not let her heart get the best of her. In her line of work it was important to be calm and collected, but everything seemed to change when she was put in the victim's seat.

"Grissom. Help me," Sara uttered out so softly even she wasn't sure if she had said it aloud. Strangely, she wondered why her mind went automatically to him. He wasn't the only person that could get her out of this, probably far from it. Sara wanted to know if he knew, if any of them knew, and what they were all thinking – especially Nick. Was this how he felt? Was it worse? She isn't six feet under ground, but quite honestly, it felt like it. She could barely breathe, her chest hurt so much from her heart thumping against it.

"Just help me. Someone."


	4. Don't Get Ahead of the Evidence

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI, nor any of its characters.

"Greg, go to Archie and tell him to find me that phone call from the mother, get a trace on it. Nick, I want you to get in contact with student housing at the university; I want to know who lived in that house for certain. Also, if you can, ask if they have any cameras around the area; if they do, get them and send them to Archie. Warrick, go see Brass and the deputy that was _supposed_," Grissom bitterly bit his tongue on that word, he just couldn't stress it enough, "to be with her. Catherine, you and I are going to the crime scene." There was slight solace in Grissom at that moment only because that once each member of the team received their assignments, they were out the door. He didn't have to tell them that they needed to go at that split second, they just did. There was enough on his mind right now, he didn't need the extra adage of loosing precious moments.

What didn't sit well with Grissom – well, one among numerous things – was how he knew exactly what to do. It played out like a rehearsed play, only this time two roles were reversed. He hated that he had to treat this like Nick's case, but strangely glad that he now had the experience. Perhaps the only reason why he was so relieved at that was because he didn't know what he'd do with himself had he not. Nick was important, more than important, but if Sara had gone missing first, Gil might have gone on one ugly rampage. The only thing he could do now was return to what he knew, rather than what he felt.

"You know, Gil," Catherine said uncharacteristically softly as she joined him in sliding in his Denali, "I heard a lot of 'I's and 'me's back there."

Grissom said nothing as he started up the engine and pulled away from his space.

"We're all in this together, Gil. We're all worried about her."

_No we're not, Catherine. _She didn't understand, hell, he didn't understand. He felt guilty in more ways than one. Obviously because he was the one that sent her on the assignment, secondly, and much less so, because he felt like he, himself, was being violated.

"I know you might be closer to Sara than anybody else, but that doesn't change the fact that we're all one-in-the-same, you know? I know I felt the same way as you when Nick was taken."

"No you didn't, Catherine," Grissom shocked himself by how loud he had put his voice, he could only imagine how she took it. He paused to regain himself as best he could before continuing, "You didn't put Nick on that case, he and Warrick took that amongst themselves. You weren't to blame for putting him there. But me…I gave her that case personally. I could've taken it, could've given it to someone else, to anyone but Sara."

"You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

"I might have well signed her death certificate, Catherine," Grissom lowered his voice to a barely audible level. Anyone could tell that guilt was eating him inside-out.

"Don't say that, Grissom, we're going to find her. If worse comes to worse, I can just go to Daddy Warbucks again." Leave it to Catherine to pull even the tiniest of grins from his face at the worst of times.

The light-hearted moment was cut short by a loud ringing echoing through the cab. He reached down to pick up his phone, looked at the screen quickly, and pushed it to his ear just as quickly. "Have something for me, Greg?"

"_But of course. Seems like the Vermontian…Vermartian…the mom from Vermont wasn't a mom from Vermont at all. The call was made from a pay phone on the old strip."_

"Good. Ge-"

"_If you're going to tell me to get down there, don't bother. I'm on my way."_

"Thank you, Greg." He felt like a fool as he disconnected his end. "How could dispatch miss that?" Grissom said to himself, but aloud to make Catherine slightly confused.

"Miss what?"

"The call was made from inside the city."

"The only reason I could think of is either they didn't pay attention or they figured it was a cell phone; even if they're out of the state, they still have the area code of the region it was activated in."

"At least we have a suspect." At the very least.

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While Greg was making some progress, Nick seemed to have hit a stand-still. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stokes, that house isn't technically on campus so we don't have any record of who owns it or resides in it."

"And there's no way you can find out for me?"

"I'm sure someone from the crime lab would have a lot better luck than a clerk at the university."

Nick huffed at the indirect insolence the woman had. Didn't she care? Even though the girl didn't know Sara, she should at least appreciate the gravity of the situation. Someone was gone, possibly in terrible danger, life-threatening even, and all she could do was turn her nose up at him. Even without knowing this woman Nick already hated her, especially since he could have been someone else working his own case.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Even if it's not _technically_ on campus, are there cameras around that area?"

"Well I think that it leads to a road near the football stadium, there are cameras in that parking lot."

"Could I get copies of those?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to talk to the head of security, who will have to talk to Dean Summers about releasing them."

Nick sighed softly, oh the bureaucracy of it all.

"Hey Grissom," Nick put his phone on speaker as he drove through the large campus to the security offices, "student housing has nothing to do with that house. It's a little off campus so they can't get the records of who owns it or anything." He paused letting Grissom get out some mild frustrations. "Of course I have good news for you…well maybe. I'm headed over to see the head of campus security. Hopefully our kidnapper took one of the roads near the stadium, cameras all over that place. – Yeah. How's that crime scene going? – Blood? Sara's you think?" Nick bit his tongue immediately after closing his mouth. That wouldn't be the best thing for Grissom to hear; but then again, he wasn't the most optimistic man, so maybe he thought it was hers too. "Yeah, I hope it isn't, either, Griss."

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"Ya know, Deputy, I keep on hearing your story and I just keep having that one question you can't answer," Jim had already lost his patience with him the second he walked through the door. He wanted to be understanding, everyone did, but it was difficult. "Why did you leave Sara Sidle alone?"

"I-I thought she'd be okay just for a while. I thought the suspect would be more important to have."

"Did you get the suspect?"

"…No. He got away from me."

"So we don't have a suspect or a CSI. Does that sound like something that goes well on a record? You never leave those CSIs alone, I thought you'd get that after what happened on the Stokes case." Brass huffed and lowered himself in the chair opposite the deputy. "So, go through what happened when you go back."

"I entered the house with my gun holstered, thought the threat was gone. My foot kicked something by the door so I looked down – it was Sidle's brush with her fingerprint power on it. I noticed a few drops of blood near it so I drew my gun and went to the living room. I called out for her a few times and when she didn't answer I went upstairs thinking she'd gone to process…hoping. When I didn't find her up there and since her car was still there, I radioed for back up. Left the house and went around the perimeter."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Warrick crossed his arms as he stared the deputy down from the other side of the glass. It wasn't fair, how come they couldn't have taken that guy? He left the scene, he deserved it. As much as he wanted a suspect, he sighed because he thought the guy was telling the absolute truth. He had worked with the guy some, he was nice, never did anything unusual. How was he supposed to call Grissom and say he has nothing? Warrick was sure that everyone else, including Greg, had something to give that wasn't useless. He knew that Grissom was already distraught, even with how hard he tried to hide it, and this news would make him worse.

"Griss, man, the deputy didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know."

"_Potential suspect?"_

"If you're talking about him, no, but he did say something about a suspect he was chasing at the scene. It's the reason why he left Sara. If we can find that guy, easier said than done, we'd have a great suspect."

"_Wait until Nick gets back with the tapes. Until then I want you to go to Doc Robbins and take a look at the drive-by victim."_

"Isn't that your and Greg's case?"

"_I have a feeling that it was planned to get us separated."_

Warrick blinked and stood there stunned. It was a little far-fetched, but it made some sense. He wasn't sure what the deal with that DB was, but he'd heard it was truly unique. "Sure. I'll call Doc and have him get it ready for me."

"_I'll be there to take a look when I'm done here."_

"Yep. Later."


	5. Progress

The guilt list that was quickly piling up on Gil Grissom's shoulders was added on when he had to make the call to Doc Robbins to have him keep the drive-by victim out. He knew that Al had a busy schedule and he was only taking time away, but he had to see it even if it was already gone over by Warrick. Albert sounded like he understood why, Gil hoped he did. Sadly, he knew he was trying to do everything in the case, everyone else knew it too; they were just good enough to stay quiet and let him do his work. Everyone knew that Gil had an attachment to this case that was never spoken. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe then they could get it closed faster and find Sara unharmed. No one on the team knew what they would do if something horrible happened to her, well, more horrible that what had already happened.

"Sorry for being so late, Albert," Gil said quietly as he stepped into the morgue and slipped his hands into a pair of latex gloves.

"Not a problem, the dead don't go anywhere."

Gil almost grinned, but he couldn't, not at a time like this; though Doc saw that he tried and that was enough satisfaction for that comment. "So…cause of death?"

"Well, I had a plethora to choose from, but from the looks of it the girl died from blunt force trauma." Al pointed to the back of her head to a small, but noticeable, wound slightly below the spine column. "Seems like whatever hit her cracked the skull, my guess is that she lived maybe a hour or two before she died."

"Well I have a more complex question for you then, time of death?"

"Certainly an enigma of how a woman that was dead for a month got to your crime scene. I'm not sure what kind of preservative someone was using on her, I sent the blood and skin work to tox. Whatever it was, they knew what they were doing. I can't tell you much beyond that."

"Looks like she didn't have a good month," Gil said as his eyes scanned her wrists, ankles, and neck, noting each and every mark on them.

"She didn't have a good three months. I know I'm not an investigator, but it looks like she was bound by the feet and hands for an extended period of time. Marks around her neck are definitely from human hands."

Gil shuttered hoping that this was all a mere coincidence. He couldn't stand to think of the same people having Sara right at that moment. "Anything else?" He had millions of more questions burning a hole in his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to ask them at the moment. Contrary to popular believe, Gil Grissom was not an emotionless man, he just was a practical man. The subconscious line in him was dangerously close to him having a good sob in his office.

"One thing. She had vaginal bruising, time lines indicate both pre and post-mortum." Albert watched his friend's jaw drop almost to the floor. There was a blankness in Gil's eyes that he had seen too much in cadavers. He knew what was swimming in the other's head since he had the exact thought. "There was a seminal contribution so I sent that with Warrick when he left." Al's eyes wandered to the clock on the wall for a moment, "I don't know DNA, but I think the results just might be ready soon."

"Thank you, Albert," Gil nodded and snapped the gloves off as he exited in a most stunned silence."

"_Ninety-five."_

"_I'm sorry?"_

"_Normally my pulse is seventy, when it gets up to ninety-five, I realize just how mad I am."_

"_You're too hard on yourself."_

"_No, I'm not mad at me. I have ten people working around the clock, there's a body in there and that guy knows where it is."_

"_So what's your pulse at now?"_

He replayed that conversation between he and Sara has he walked to his Denali, two fingers on his wrist. He silently counted the number of beats as he eyes drifted down to his watch. By the time he climbed in the driver's seat of his car a minute had passed. "One hundred," he stated simply to himself and turned on the ignition.

By the time Gil got back to the lab he had calls from Greg, Catherine, and Nick. They were all making good headway and he was proud of that. Greg had found the payphone used to make the call to the station, printed it, and was on the way back to the lab, Catherine had gone to get the records of who owned the house Sara was taken at and received them rather quickly, and Nick had managed for the Dean to give copies of security tape and was on his way back to Archie. Grissom was already in his parking spot when his phone rang again, this time with 'Warrick cell' on the display. "Grissom."

"_Where are you?"_

"Lab parking lot, why?"

"_Get in here fast."_

Gil raised an eyebrow as he shut the cover to his phone and climbed out of the SUV. What was that about? Warrick never was that short in tone or hurried in speech, something was wrong. Grissom wasted no time getting inside the lab and to Warrick, who was waiting in his office with gloves on. His eyes ran to his desk where he saw an out of place package sitting on it. Ninety-five, one-hundred. "What is that?"

"Package. Addressed to you. Judy at the front desk signed for it while all of us were out. She caught me coming in and asked me to give it to you. She's a dull one, if you ask me. I sent her over to Brass for some questioning about the delivery."

Grissom swallowed his heart as he made his way over to the desk. "Printed?"

"Yeah, only Judy's." Warrick tossed some gloves he had handy for this specifically.

Pursing his lips, Gil put on his gloves, silently cursing the overly-sweet and naïve receptionist Judy. He carefully opened the box, not really caring at this point if it was wired for detonation at this point. He figured what would be the point in kidnapping a CSI then blowing up her colleagues before demands are made. He'd almost gotten himself blown up for Nick, so he would do the same for Sara.

The contents of the box were sparse, but made Gil cringe nonetheless. Sitting neatly inside were Sara's vest, an upside down photograph, and a flash drive. The whole thing was hauntingly familiar, perhaps that was the thing that Grissom hated the most about it all.

"Copy cat?" Warrick narrowed his vision on the vest his supervisor pulled out.

"We never released to the public that there was a flash drive sent as well," Grissom's gloved hand reached in and pulled out the small USB ported device.

By that time, Grissom had still not unfolded Sara's vest, but Warrick had. His grip tightened around it as he looked to the button most left corner. "Grissom," he said, anger leaking out of his voice cords. As his boss looked up, Warrick turned around the vest to show a sight that is never welcomed to CSI.

"…Take it to Mia and have it compared with the sample from the drive-by victim." One-hundred, one-hundred and one. His hands shook as they reached for the last piece of evidence. He took the glossy piece of paper and turned it around, tilting his head down to see above his glasses. There was Sara, seemingly sleeping like an angel, only an angel with her wrists bound and in a trunk. Grissom glared at the restrains, his grip staring to crinkle the page. If only he could rip it up and somehow have her right there; or simply rip it up and save her the embarrassment later, but he couldn't, he had to treat it like every other piece of evidence.

His attention turned to the flash drive again, wishing he could pop it right in and have it relieve itself, but he knew he had to process. He also knew it would be the longest processing of his career. Grissom lifted the box from his desk, getting ready to take it to a lab, when he saw a whole different brand of surprises: case assignments from Ecklie. How dare he. Gil knew that Ecklie had a grand grasp of the case that swing and graveyard were all on and now he tried to give them separate cases again? In the middle of this one, no less? He set down the box for a moment and picked up the stack of papers that was just below it. Gil knew that he couldn't face Ecklie with this or he just might lose his temper once more, and if that happened it would run a risk of having him taken off the case. There was a simple answer, though. "Excuse me?" Grissom caught the attention of one lab runner, whose sole job is to take paperwork and test results from point A to point B.

"Yes, Dr. Grissom?" obviously not a well known lab employee to Grissom since he tacked on the 'Doctor'.

"Could you do me a favor and run these over to Conrad Ecklie?"

"Yes sir," he took the papers from his hand and went off on his way with a strange sense of pride.

"Hey, Griss," Warrick called over to him with a piece of paper in his hand. "Mia compared the two seminal contributions on Sara's vest and the victim. Girl works wonders even with me hounding her to go faster, ya know. We got a match, it's the same guy. We're running the DNA through CODIS right now. This guy isn't that smart."

"How do you figure?" Grissom quirked an eyebrow up, thinking almost the exact opposite.

"Pretty much handing us two DNA samples like that. Doesn't seem to me like something a well-organized person would do."

"He's not stupid, Warrick, he's taunting us. He wants us to know who he is. Since he staged two crime scenes deliberately I'd say he's fairly intelligent as the criminal mind goes."

Warrick only shrugged, seeing Grissom's point but not wanting to acknowledge it. Anyone who turns to kidnapping and raping isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer in his point-of-view. "And about that…Someone has to be working with him, so we have to be looking for two suspects."

"It's crossed my mind, but for now we only have the evidence to ID one."

At that moment both of their pagers went off. Almost simultaneously the two men went to their pagers to see the display of 'Mia DNA!' scroll across each screen. Grissom and Warrick looked up at each other for a long moment before quickly getting on their way to the lab Mia called a second home.


End file.
